The Sci-Fi Fantasy
by darianlane
Summary: The Sci-Fi Fantasy: Darian Lane flips the Sci-Fi/Fantasy genre on its head as he takes the reader on a torturous journey with Morpheus- a mute warrior who embarks on an odyssey to find his father in 3015. Searching through wormholes, distant planets, and subdivisions of space and time Morpheus puts together a motley crew which includes Ripley, Jas - The Exhorter, and Paw Paw.


CHAPTER ONE

_The Story of Morpheus_

Everyone wants to get into world-building. Imagine this. Trees that are blue and buildings that are orange. Everyone is short with hairy feet and pointy ears.

If you can imagine this, you've picked up the wrong book.

Reimagine: A dark world. It rains constantly. Every building is black. Every tree has been cut down. Birds and cats have long been extinct. Wild dogs roam about.

Enter our hero. Morpheus.

I know what you're thinking. That's a direct rip from _The Matrix_. You are correct. Who would you rather follow? Morpheus or Ted?

Ted has a day job. He works 9-5. Went to college, pays back school loans, and is mortgaged to the hilt. He has brown shoes that have seen its better days. He wears a brown belt which is two sizes too big. He utters phrases like, "I'll get right on that, sir." and "Do you mind if I go to the restroom?" Ted is 43 and he still has to ask permission to go to the restroom.

Morpheus has never had a job in his life. He wears black rugged boots, a long black coat, and a V-neck shirt to show off his chest hair. And there is plenty of that.

Morpheus also doesn't speak. He is mute. Has been mute since he was seven years old. It was a dark gloomy day when he told his mother to go fuck herself. She didn't take kindly to his manner and cut off his tongue. He didn't cry, sob or mope, he simply laughed tonguelessly, packed up his things (which included a rusty watch, a compass, and a knife), and went in search of his father.

The first town he arrived in was FORD. It was the last town his father was seen in.

FORD was a town under construction. Nothing was built yet, but it was on its way. Black houses, concrete yards, and streets safe enough to walk on. The latter being the most important, given that crime was still at an all-time high. People were murdered just for looking at one another. There were no arguments, only assaults, killings, and torture chambers.

The torture chambers came from a book in the early 2000s called_, Fifty Shades Of Grey_. The book was geared toward S&M and cosplay, but in today's society, it is used for people who have wronged you. Everyone has a torture chamber in their basement. There are commercials daily, nightly on the television:

"Come in, come in. We've gottem good, gottem dark, gottem edgy. Soundproof rooms, cages, swings, chains, for the low low price…"

I'm certain you can finish the rest of that sentence.

Back to Morpheus.

Morpheus sat on a brown park bench, staring at his untied boots. He wondered why in 3015 shoelaces were still a thing. Light rain came down landing on Morpheus' battered face and beaded up. It looked as if he could have been crying black tears, but Morpheus didn't cry. He hadn't the proclivity for cheap sentiment.

"What's up Ol' Timer?" a 15-year-old boy approached.

_Ol' Timer?_ Morpheus reflected. He was only twenty.

"Big Bad Voodoo Dama," the boy said, taking a seat next to him. His rank body odor had sat down long before him. He wore no shoelaces, long blue pants and a rough-dried t-shirt that read, "Fun."

_Big Bad Voodoo Dama_? Morpheus mulled. _That couldn't be this boy's birth name_.

"It's been a crazy day," the boy continued, cracking his neck. "Woke up this morning and stepped on a caterpillar. Bad omen, man. Bad omen. You believe in omens, don't you?"

Morpheus didn't answer and rubbed the scar on his left cheek.

The boy's restless leg bounced unceasingly as he resumed. "You like to dance? I like to dance. Boogity Boogity," he said, his arms gesticulating. "You see I've been living in a warehouse. Free rent, right? And all the room you can dance in. Can't pass that up. It gets cold at night, but we make sacrifices, right? I had a girlfriend who used to keep me warm, but she left me after she found out I couldn't hold a job. She was older." He reminisced for a brief moment, then continued. "I work in a tunneling crew. Well, worked. I liked it. Real gutsy guys. Gutsy. So while I was waiting to go to work this morning, I got splashed by two cars. Two." He held up his fingers. "Two cars. I ended up showing up to work a half-hour late. They fired me on the spot. Damn _Jas, The Exhorter_."

Morpheus had heard this name before – _Jas, The Exhorter_, but couldn't remember where.

Morpheus stared intently into Big Bad Voodoo Dama's face as he continued. "As I walked away with my severance check I ended up tripping on my shoelaces and sprained my ankle. Can you believe that?" The boy lifted up his pant leg to reveal the swollen crimson, brown and green ankle. "See," he pronounced proudly.

Morpheus didn't bother to look as he studied the lines in Big Bad Voodoo Dama's face. Though he was much younger than Morpheus, the boy looked tired and weary. A cold apprehension came over Morpheus.

The boy dropped his pant leg.

A pregnant silence ensued.

"Caterpillars," Voodoo Dama intoned, breaking the silence.

A switchblade appeared up against Morpheus' neck. The boy smiled. His canines glimmered in the overcast sky. Upon closer inspection, Morpheus noticed Dama's two missing incisor teeth. Morpheus studied those two missing teeth very carefully as the boy rummaged through his pockets.

Morpheus thought…

A. If I kill this boy, some readers will put this book down.

B. If I don't kill this boy, he may kill me.

C. Well, there is no 'C.'

Morpheus stood. The boy's blood flowed into the narrow street.

_It was time to go_.

As he walked up 6th Avenue, he heard the whining sirens coming toward him.

"Halt," an authoritative voice hollered.

Morpheus turned and saw two police officers with guns drawn.

_That was fast_, he mused, then stepped into a wormhole.


End file.
